


Lost

by shlynn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Foreshadowing, Grief/Mourning, Implied Underage, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Young Derek, Young Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shlynn/pseuds/shlynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kid shakes and wheezes, his little body seemingly punching out sobs even though it hasn't taken in enough air for them. Derek tries to maybe stroke the kid's shoulder in a calming way but he ends up accidentally squeezing until the kid grunts in a distracted sort of pain. Derek removes his hand.</p><p>"Hey," he repeats for a third time, and winces at himself for not having anything better to say. "What are you doing here? Where are your parents?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This was honestly just a really dumb idea that came into my head and was supposed to be like 200 words, tops. Oops.
> 
> I'm exhausted right now but this fic wouldn't let me not write it. I'm sorry if it's garbage.

Derek knows he's not good with people, okay. He's awkward. He _knows_.

Combatting it only seems to make it worse, so he's learned to just sort of embrace it. His mother keeps petting his head and "tsk"ing at him, telling him,

"Oh honey, you're just going through an awkward phase; everyone does."

And Laura, of course, snickers until Talia gives her _the look_.

Kate doesn't seem to think Derek is that awkward, though. She seems to like Derek just fine, thank you, and Derek is almost afraid of how eager he is to justify her attention. He's trying to play it cool, aloof, but he also knows that being late for one of their secret dates is probably a little _too_ aloof, so. He's sort of hoofing it to make it on time.

He's cutting through a forested section of Hale property when he hears it. Like a small animal, maybe, sort of gasping. But no - it's more human than that, almost like hiccoughs or crying or... Crying. Oh.

Derek peers around a big oak trunk at the pathetic little figure; a boy, curled in on himself and crying quietly into his knees. His shoulders are jumping around enough that it almost looks like he's laughing, but Derek knows the salt of tears and the overwhelming stink of _grief_ means that unless this kid has gone nuts, he probably isn't laughing.

He glances at his watch. Ugh. He really doesn't have time for this.

"Hey," he says, and the kid jumps about a foot in the air, flailing his arms out and rustling the dirt and leaves around him. His eyes are wide and he looks up at Derek with a mortified expression before making what Derek can only describe as the sound of breaking and curling back in on himself, gasping for air.

"Hey," Derek repeats again, softer this time because the kid is on his way to hyperventilating. "Hey, breathe. Breathe."

The kid tries to nod but his face is crumpled up like an apology - like he's trying to tell Derek that he's trying, he's sorry, he's trying - and Derek sighs, purposely ignoring the compulsion to check his watch again, and crouches down next to the kid. He hesitates first, then awkwardly places his hand on the kid's shoulder.

Derek really doesn't know how to soothe people. Last summer Cora caught a frog and accidentally killed it when she forgot to poke air holes in his tupperware home. She'd been devastated that she'd "murdered Hopper" and Derek had thought he was being practical when he'd said,

"Next time don't forget air holes."

But of course Cora's response, amid her further agitated shrieks, was,

"There won't be a next time, idiot, Hopper's already dead!"

Laura had glared her big-sister-glare when Derek, feeling trapped, had offered,

"Well, everything dies, Cor,"

With a shrug that'd had his little sister in absolute hysterics. Finally his mother had simply sent him out of the room.

The kid shakes and wheezes, his little body seemingly punching out sobs even though it hasn't taken in enough air for them. Derek tries to maybe stroke the kid's shoulder in a calming way but he ends up accidentally squeezing until the kid grunts in a distracted sort of pain. Derek removes his hand.

"Hey," he repeats for a third time, and winces at himself for not having anything better to say. "What are you doing here? Where are your parents?"

It sends the kid into fresh shakes as he hides his face so he can presumably snot into his own sleeve. Derek growls his frustration with himself and plants his hand on the kid's shoulder again. This time he apparently gets it right, because the boy sighs into the touch, his breath stuttering at first before evening out somewhat. It still sounds like a chore to breathe, like his body is so panicked for the next breath it won't let him finish the current one, but it's better. Derek feels the tension in his shoulders loosen somewhat.

The boy mutters something Derek can't pick up through the layer of crappy kid-speak and stuffed up nose.

"Hm?" he says, remembering to keep his voice quiet.

"I want my mommy," the boy says, sniffling and turning to look at Derek with watery amber eyes that seem to be pleading with Derek to _fix it_.

Derek doesn't check his watch. He nods.

"You're lost?"

The kid doesn't answer. Just sniffles, rubs his eye with his dirty sleeve (gross), and leans back into Derek's palm.

"Where do you live?"

He ends up listening to some vaguely mumbled directions including "near the park with two slides" and "across the street from Nana Jeffries' house" and quickly realizes he's going to have to do this by scent. He lets the kid talk about Nana Jeffries' homemade pecan cookies while he tries to subtly sniff out a base scent below the thick, sugary smell of child.

Lifting the kid to his feet doesn't really work, since apparently he's been sitting for so long he's got a bit of jelly-leg happening. At this point, although he's still sniffling and wiping his red, watery eyes with his disgusting sleeves, the kid seems to be more or less finished crying. His energy now seems to be focussed on keeping physical contact with Derek - he grabs Derek's pointer finger, clutches a fist into his shirt at the base of his back, and leans into his side. Finally he just lifts the kid up, lets him cling like a monkey to his chest the way Laura always got their cousins to do (the way his cousins never seemed to want to do with Derek).

It's a bit of a walk and Derek is pretty sure the kid has fallen asleep on his shoulder. There's something wet happening there, but his heartbeat is steady and his breathing normal, so the distress of earlier seems to have finally seeped out of the kid. He's going with sleep-drool, then. Derek's thinking about how awful it must be to get lost; to not be able to find your way back to family with scent or sound or just a pull in your gut - he almost walks right by the house that smells most like the boy in his arms, until the front door bangs open and a uniformed deputy rushes out, gun pointed right at Derek.

"Hey! Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" the deputy demands, and Derek would really like to know why there is a gun pointed at him. The man looks furious and scared and - tired. Derek takes a whiff and hums - maybe exhaustion is what let a cop lose track of his own kid. Derek crouches down slowly, jostling the child in his arms a little to try to wake him.

"Hey," he says when the kid groans awake. His face is all puffy and red from crying, but other than looking a little disgruntled from being woken he seems fine. "Is that your dad?"

"You're damn right I'm his dad!" the deputy chokes, shoving his gun back in its holster and rushing forward. The kid turns in Derek's arms and all but throws himself at his father. They cling to each other for dear life and Derek tries to imagine not being able to innately just _sense_ his family. He shudders and turns away a little.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again, Stiles, do you hear me? You had me scared to death." the deputy freezes at his own words right before they send his kid right back into a fit like the one he was having in the forest. He's not breathing right and he's trying to cry but he can't and his father looks to be absolutely panicked, at a loss.

"Hey," Derek is beside the boy before he can stop himself, his hand back on his shoulder. "Breathe."

The boy nods again, like before, and crushes himself into his dad this time instead of Derek's hand. Derek pulls away and offers a hesitant smile to the kid's father.

"Thank you," the deputy says, rocking his son back and forth. His voice is wrecked. Derek shrugs, feeling awkward, says,

"Guess he lost his mom,"

Which finally has the boy crying. Really crying, not just attempted sobs with not enough air. Derek steps back like he's been slapped, feels awful and relieved at once. The kid's cries sound terrible, they do - but they also sound a little bit like release.

The deputy nods slowly, lips pursed, eyes red-rimmed, and turns to carry the boy back into the house.

Derek stands there for a moment to feel like shit. It's like he's hardwired to be bad with everyone.

He's in a foul mood until he calls Kate to explain why he's - about an hour late by now, wow. She coos over the phone, laughs as he grumbles about how the kid cried when Derek dropped him off. Derek's ears burn red, but she says she still wants to see him tonight, so.

To make up for his tardiness, that night he gives her a key to his house that he had made for her.

Kate smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you see any typos or have any comments/critiques. I'll do my best to fix errors and respond to feedback. Thanks!


End file.
